Travelers
by chrysalis escapist
Summary: thoughts on a certain journey and our companions, Mac&Stella, most of the team, Stella's POV kind of


**This one is ****rather loosely based on an old Nicaraguan belief about the circles of life and how we move through them. It's especially for Blue Shadowdancer who reminded me of it.**

**I know it's very unusual, but maybe some of you still like it?**

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Shrouded by nightfall. Granite blocks, from before man knew of time. Formed over eons, cut over decades, built over months, tumbling down in moments. Slates toppling like cards, folding into each other. Swallowing themselves in a continental drift. Carbon based life forms crushed, pressed into soot, coal, eventually maybe a diamond. Layer upon layer furling, conserving, fossilizing. A graphite cloud escapes like a sigh. A last breath.

It hovers over the battered body from which it has fled. Blends into the shadows around, mingles with the wind. Begins a new journey.

my hands should be moving, don't they always move? Maybe even in my sleep…

…but I don't see them move  
…I don't feel them move  
…I feel I can't move

I'm cold. I don't freeze. I just feel that I'm cold. Wrapped into a casket of darkness. Solid, but I don't feel it anymore, like my body has forgotten…

A raindrop. Falling through the air it stretches from a perfect sphere. It could pass for a teardrop, falling from a clouded face, bent downwards, weeping over the world.

Tiniest pieces of mineral dust caught inside. A taste from the clouds.

Liquid hits solid. One drop, gliding down, leaving a darkened trail. Another drop, and another, gathering, overcoming the sun's attempts to draw them back up again. One drop finds a fissure. Slips in, squeezes along stones. Gathers an atom or two, leaves traces of itself behind. As it has always been. Another drop, and another. Completing their journey.

I can feel them coming. Coming to complete my journey. They wash into me.

(Mac – something wrong?)  
Blood rushing, an angry young man. Danny. His cheeks putting roses to shame with their color. But his heat garners him nothing. Burning rubies into the air with a laser, pointing to where I should be.

(Mac – we have to do something.)  
Home fires burning. Lindsay. Warmth, following the glow of fire-flies. Tracing movements through copper wires. Tagetes, a studious flower, and she knows where I've been.

(Mac – she's in there.)  
A single gentle flame, tiny buttercups. Adam. Tossed about by life, but never jaundiced. Keeping up the hope, a topaz light. A trickle of light sparkling like sand in the sun. Finding a crevice.

(Mac – we can't get to her.)  
Grass rolling up and down hills, a beanstalk. Flack. Stalking over the shattered ground above me, back and forth, and in circles. Jaded, the usual emerald isle's kobold's grin gone. Hope dying away.

(Mac – five days since…)  
A serene summer sky is fading. Hawkes. Aware of reality, the lapis crumbling, not that they'll find me but how. The chicory believed to remove obstacles not working. But it grows along my path.

(Mac – it's been six days…)  
Late evening and early morning clouds. Sid. Amethyst glow in his eyes, irises driven away. Gently bending my fingers, pliable. Running a finger tenderly along livid bruises blooming on my forehead.

Mac  
taking my hand, lifting my arm. Drops of water pearling down like wax along a tallow candle. Candescent skin. Niveous petals dropped into his hair. I want to reach them, brush them off. My hummingbird. I should be grinning now, Mac a hummingbird, yeah. And yet, somehow, he sure is a gem.

strings of words

if only they were on strings

pearls of letters that just won't fall into place

skipping away  
arbitrarily  
as they  
fall

down on me

Snowdrops, the first to peek through the earth, to drive the cold winter away.

Silky, alabaster softness wraps around me, lifts me towards the light. A breath of fresh air washes into me, another and another, slow waves. A weight on my heart – is gone. Is back. A hand, an aureate glow.

A smile sails towards me, on the waves of my heartbeat, fanned by my breath. I see it gild his eyes. My hands move, are moved towards his heart. It feels good, that they move again, to feel that they move.

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Thanks for reading; all thoughts are welcome and replied to where possible :)


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